By Your Hand I Have Loved
by dandelionsandroses
Summary: "Katniss, this is King Peeta, he has come from the great country of Panem," her father's breath became shaky, "Daughter, he has come from Panem to request your hand in marriage in exchange for protection and wealth for our country."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own the Hunger Games. All the characters mye that have been presented are not mine, they are the property of Suzanne Collins and her publishers. **

"Katniss, Katniss! Miss Katniss," the voice echoed through the hallows of the stone plated walls. I knew eventually I would have to leave the safety of the closet, if I went missing for too long and wasn't with Gale they would fear that I had been captured or that my generally reckless behavior had resulted in my getting hurt. A search party would have to be constructed, and honest citizens would be forced out of loyalty to take their tired hands from their work and search the neighboring woods for a sign of where I had gone. I couldn't force them to miss a day's work, it wouldn't be fair to them for me to choose my own selfish desire to remain here over their ability to care for their children.

A lot of things weren't fair though. It wasn't fair I had been born the eldest daughter of the reigning monarch of the small country, Seam. It wasn't fair that I could not take my father's place upon his death, simply because I had the unfortunate stroke of being born female. It wasn't _fair _that my mama had slipped herself a sliver of nightlock juice in an attempt to escape the prison of her head, but what I had come to learn from my place in this world was that life isn't fair.

Leaning my head against the aged wood of the closet I was currently inhabiting, I tenderly stroked the crisp lines of marble floor. They seemed to mock me with their effortless perfection. Was that it? Did they mock me with the perfect straight lines they had been cut into? I gave a hollow laugh at my silly thoughts, even though I knew no matter how much their life chipped away at me, I would never be as perfect as these marble floors

Letting out a sigh and briefly cursing the names of my forefathers under my breath, I called out from the closet, "I'm here. I'm here."

It was only then, when the heavy wooden doors of the closet were opened, light seeping into my little corner with a forceful nature, the wiry housemaid lifting my hands in an cry of joy, that I crawled out of the closet ignoring the slight rip my dress made as the deep red silk gripped to a nail. That would be the third dress I had ripped in the past month.

"Miss Katniss, we have been looking all over for you. There is a _very _important guest here and your father has requested your presence in the throne room as soon as you can be made presentable."

"Of course", I muttered as I followed the housemaid out of the chamber and into the hallway, shooing my into the bedroom. I wondered what type of guest would possibly cause my father to request my presence in the throne room. Usually, when the King called me to meet guests, often a visiting scholar or an old friend, they met in the more casual drawing room. No, it wasn't ordinary for this to happen, the throne room was reserved for meetings with stuffy foreign dignitaries.

I hoped that perhaps it would be a visit from one of my father's relatives that I wasn't well aquatinted with, or perhaps one of the friends Gale had made on his recent journeys to the East. Gale, my cousin and my father's heir was a close childhood friend of I. One day he would rule my country, with my at his side. It had been accepted over the years that we would marry when the time came. It wasn't official, of course, that would have to wait, but it was accepted amongst the nobles. There was nothing romantic between us yet, but I had the sneaking suspicion cousin Gale thought kindly of me. But for the moment, we were nothing more than friends. Unlike most noble girls, I had no patience for new dresses or embroidery, much to my mother's protest I had preferred to spend my time with Gale riding horses, attending hunts in the surrounding forest, or engaging in friendly sword fights. Gale and I had been the simplest of companions since birth. While our lips had never graced the other's, it was the way I planned on keeping it until the time came that it was truly necessary.

The housemaid slipped a dainty silver dress over my head, bringing me from my thoughts and reminding me of why I was really here. It was an elaborate dress, a silver fabric with a floral embroidered front piece. I had only worn the dress once, last holiday season. Why on earth I was wearing this dress, no occasion in my mind could dream up a guest that important. Perhaps my father was playing with me? Some sort of prank to make me worry. He had been pretty harsh on me recently, reminding me constantly that I had to be a lady. Maybe this was his way of making it up to me. Hosting a ball in my honor, perhaps? "Is this really necessary? Can't I just wear the blue silk?" I asked the maid.

The woman looked up at I with a weary expression, "I'm afraid I have been given strict orders. I am sorry my highness." I allowed her to continue fixing the dress on my body, not that I would usually go along with it, but I worried for the woman's security in her job if I did not comply.

The dress hung lower than most of the other ones I owned, allowing the tops of my bosom to be viewed. It made my feel a bit uncomfortable, and very hesitant about what was to come. My father wouldn't force me to where a dress like this to some sort of surprise ball or event. It was only then, when the dress was laced and my soft brown hair fixed that I realized how important a meeting this must be. I visibly shook in apprehension as I was led up to the throne room.

The housemaid left with a slight curtsy, and a guard decked in silver and rich brocade opened the door. Daintily stepping into the room, I looked out. The walls were covered in thousands of tiny stones depicting the country's history, it's stories telling my family's past. My king and father sat on the plush red velvet of the gold plated throne. His usually sparkling grey eyes met his daughter's only with sorrow as he looked up at the visitor. The visitor was quite obviously handsome, if I must admit it. A bit familiar too, with his blonde hair slicked back and his blue eyes radiating in the room. He had a dominant presence, hands casually placed on the left side of the throne, in a manner that made my family's prized possession seem worthless. He must have been in his early 20s or late teens from what I could see. Maybe as old as Gale. The young man's clothes were so rich and well fit, they made my father's finest outfit seem like rags. I could only assume, from his looks and his dress that he was of great wealth.

"I," my father said, forcing my to break from looking at the blue eyed man.

"Yes father."

"This is King Peeta of the great country of Panem," father's breath became shaky, "Daughter, he has come from Panem to request your hand in marriage in exchange for protection and wealth for our country."

**Author's Note: So tmye it is! Please tell me what you think. It's the first fanfiction I have really tried and enjoyed writing, and it has been in my head for a long time. I am going to need a beta who is good at grammar (as I am quite terrible.) Please review and let me know if I should continue.**

**Also, I'm not sure if I should write this in third person or first person, so if you review make your opinion known. Thank You!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Unfortunately, I do not own the Hunger Games franchise. All the characters here belong to their respective owners (Suzanne Collins, publisher, etc.)**

**1. I would like to thank everybody who reviewed the first chapter. I did not expect to get that much support from everybody. Thanks for all of your reviews. It made my day! **

**2. The prep scenes were based off of the prep scenes from the Book, just edited**

**3. I switched the dialogue over to first person.**

I stood there with my mouth agape, my heart pounded in an inconsistent manner as I processed the information I had just heard. He wants me to marry him, but Gale- and why on earth would somebody from such a wealthy country like Panem want to marry into my family? My country has nothing to give him. Seam has limited resources, only coal, which isn't even that needed. Why would he travel here for my hand?

My father awoke me from my uncomfortable gaping, "Well daughter, what do you think?"

"Oh-Okay," I sputtered out as I grabbed my dress up in an unladylike fashion and ran. I ran across the floors of the throne room, barely stopping as a guard struggled to open the door quickly, I ran all the way through the palace and out the kitchen door not stopping until I reached the safety of the forest. I even managed to trip a servant carrying a load of laundry in a rough metal bucket. Usually, I would have stopped or attempted to help, but at the moment it felt like my chest was closing in on my body.

When Gale found me lying on my back in a cleared section of the woods he swiftly grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me up.

"Oh, Katniss," he said. "Oh, Katniss, I cant-" he took me into his arms and hugged me tightly to the point that he was cutting off my circulation.

"Gale, they want me to, they want me to, _marry_ that man," I sobbed into his shoulder.

"I heard," he loosened his tight grip around me and looked my in the eyes, "Remember Katniss, you do not have to go through with this. You have a choice."

"Oh Gale, we both know that isn't true. We both know that it is my duty to give myself for my country. You would do the same if you were in my position. We agree to caring for our families, and with the state Seam is in... we weren't going to survive much longer."

"I know my duty, and I know yours. I'm just not sure If I'm willing, or even able to give you up. I'm not that sacrificial, Katniss," and he cut me off by pushing my body against a tree and placing his lips on mine.

"I'm sorry, I had to do that at least once."

"Gale, I cant. We can't. If he still wants me after running out of there like that, we both know, we both have to accept," I sighed against him, my nose resting on his, "we have to accept the fact that If he still takes me I will go willingly to Panem... forever."

"Okay, Katniss. If this is what you want," he grasps my hands and looks me in the eyes, "If this is what you want, okay."

"You'll forget about _us?_ You will not blame me for doing what I think is right?"

He gives me a sad smile, "Sure, if that is what you want. Whatever you want, Katniss. I could never deny you of anything. Why don't I run and get the bows and we can relax for a while. Although, you should probably change out of that dress. Not that it matters if you ruin it, with a husband like that you will be rolling in gowns that cost ten times the price of this one."

* * *

When my father catches me he scolds me for running away, even though he does it with tears in his eyes. "You have to start acting like the Queen of Panem, Katniss. You can't run around anymore in the way I have allowed you to. They will not accept that. You have to make him pleased by your actions, daughter. We can't lose this opportunity."

Several days go by, and King Peeta remains in both the castle and his decision to take me as his wife. I try to spend every waking moment with my loved ones, a way of saying goodbye, although it is fairly difficult due to the amount of feasts and dances my father puts on for my newly betrothed. Over the days, members of the Capitol, the city in Panem where the royal court is held, swarm in to join in on the celebrations. I've only heard of the extravagance of the place, but from the get ups that I see them wearing I can only assume the wealth is far beyond my imagination. When I hear that the people who have arrived are only tailors, dressmakers, and an assortment of different people that have been sent to prep me for the journey I nearly faint. If this is what the merchant class of the Capitol is wearing, imagine what finery the members of Court are dressed in?

* * *

I meet the prep team early on the morning before I will leave. R-i-i-i-p! I grit my teeth as Venia, a woman with a too wide dress who regularly wears a wig in the shape of a bird cage rips a piece of fabric from my legs.

"Sorry!" she pipes in her silly Capitol accent.

"You're just so hairy!"

_Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question?_ Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s... it's practically impossible not to mimic them.

Venia makes what's supposed to be a sympathetic face. "Good news, though. This is the last one. Ready?" I grip my hands on the table I am seated on and give a nod. The final swathe of my leg hair is uprooted from me in a painful jerk. I have spent three hours curled up in my chamber as the prep team fixes me to look like the queen of Panem. This has included scrubbing down my body with a gritty loam that has removed not only dirt but at least three layers of skin, turning my usually dirt filled nails into uniform shapes, and primarily, ridding my body of hair. my legs, arms, torso, underarms, and parts of my eyebrows have been swiftly removed. She looks like a bird that has been rid of it's feathers. It's unsettling.

Venia looks back at her work, admiring it with a lustful gaze, "Excellent. You look almost human now. His highness will love you!" Apparently I am supposed to be comforted by the fact that some strange man will enjoy my body being stripped of its hair.

They step out of the room. It's kind of hard for me to hate them in the way I do the others, they are such idiots that I can't really expect much from them.

The door opens and a young man who must be the dressmaker, enters. I am visibly taken aback by how normal he looks. Most of the people from Panem I have seen are covered in rouge, wigs, and an assortment of heavy colors. But Cinna's close-cropped hair appears to be its natural shade of brown. He's in a simple black jacket and breeches. The only concession to self-alteration seems to be metallic gold powder? that has been applied with a light hand. It brings out the flecks of gold in his green eyes. And, despite my disgust with the Capitol and their hideous fashions, I can't help thinking how attractive it looks.

_How _"Hello, Katniss, is it alright if I call you that? I'm Cinna, I will be assembling your wardrobe for your life as my queen. I've already assembled a few travel gowns for your journey."

"Oh," I say, unsure of what the proper response is.

Cinna slips me into a light orange gown that's made of a heavy fabric, unsure of what it made of it I run my hand along the midsection. It's not quite velvet, and it's not quite silk. It's a bit thicker, and softer than most of the fabrics I have experienced.

"It's a modified form of velvet I came up with. It doesn't wrinkle and it's a more comfortable for a long journey," Cinna explains as he attached a lace covered front that matches the long lace sleeves. I have cared much for dresses, but even sI can admit it's stunning.

"His highness has requested for your hair to be left in it's usual style, and I have noticed that you wear a lot of braids, so that is what we will be doing."

At least I would be able to leave my hair in a comfortable fashion. It pained me to think of wearing one of those silly wigs as the carriage went over every bump. I wondered, however, why King Peeta would care about that. Maybe he didn't want to be hit by a falling wig?

* * *

After my corset was loosely tied, the dressed stitched here and there so it fit better, and my brown locks tied up in an elaborate braid Cinna leads me through the halls of the palace to a room where my loved ones await to say their final goodbyes. I had already said everything I wanted to say in the comfort of true privacy, but it was tradition to say goodbye to your loved ones before you left your maiden home.

My little sister Prim burst into tears explaining that she was crying that would miss me, but she also was incredibly happy that I would be with such a handsome and sweet man like Peeta.

_How naive? To think that a man coming and stealing me away from my family is some sort of fairytale romance. _Honestly, though, I hadn't spent any time alone with him yet. I had sat three chairs down from him in my rightful place at the table several times, but he had never addressed me directly. From what I could tell Peeta was a very charming man. He managed to get a few laughs out of the noblemen and his silver tongue was almost unbelievable. His pretty words pleased everyone but me, I had never been a big fan of people who could be so enthralling with their words. They deceived others easily, and it unnerved me that the man who would take me in marriage was that good with words.

My sister cried, Gale enwrapped me into a choking hug, and my father gave only emotionless words of 'congratulations' on bringing such honor to her family. He sounded, for once in my life, like a King instead of a father. Is this what my relationship would become with my family after I spent a few years away? My little sister would just become Primrose of the Everdeen house, and Gale only the reigning monarch of Seam. Would I just be the Queen of Panem, somebody they once knew but now only spoke to in diplomatic relations? I hadn't though much about how different my life was going to become. How, today would start the new life. A life where I bore the King of Panem's children. A life with a new family, and my current family, the people I loved, only a figure of the past. The realization scared me. I was only seventeen years old. I deserved more years with my father before he was taken from me like my mother.

So yes, I was scared, but for the sake of my family and my sanity, I only shed a couple of tears and held back from the screaming that was inside of me. _My name is Katniss, of the Everdeen house. I am seventeen years old. I am going to marry King Peeta. I will be a wife and a Queen. I_ managed to calm myself down, so when the Panemian guard dressed in the finest livery led me out of the room and to the heavy mahogany main doors of the palace, the only emotion felt was a newfound burning encouragement to do what was best for the people.

* * *

**Author's Note: It should be noted that this chapter is very rough (and there are probably a few grammatical errors) I wrote this in a couple of hours in the middle of the day. I intended on making this chapter 5,000 words (I already have the next two thousand or so written up) but because of the overwhelming support I received from people I decided to publish this today.**

**Remember to review. I want constructive criticism:) Did it go to fast? Is the voice wrong? etc. Thanks for all of the community support. It made my day. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: WOW! Over 100 follows in less than 48 hours. This is absolutely amazing. I decided, thanks to all of the reviews, and the realization that I couldn't truly express their relationship properly without Katniss's inside thoughts to go with a first person perspective. **

The guard opens the door and it makes a slight screech as it hits the floors below, sending a high pitched squeal that towers over the sound of the crowd that has gathered to see me sent off to Panem. Peeta is waiting at the end of the platform presumably for me. He looks up at me for a second, blue eyes blazing, as he extends his hand in my direction.

"This way," he says to me with a slight nod as I accept his hand.

The pathway in front of me has been separated off by two lines of well uniformed guards. Their livery in the colors of Panem, gold and red. Red for the roses that brought the people of Panem joy through the dark ages that formed the country, and gold to glorify the everlasting wealth that will be held by Panem. Or so I have been told.

Peeta gently leads me towards the carriage at the end of the pathway. It is far beyond anything my limited imagination could conjure up, the outside finely covered in gold. Twisted decorations of different animals and crowns, which I would assume are important to the history of Panem, adorn the tops and sides. Painted on the doors are elaborate scenes of chubby cherubs dancing on fountains and what seems to be a montage to a member of the royal house.

When we reach the end of the pathway, he stops about two feet before the open carriage doors and he loosens his tight grip on my hand and steps into the carriage before allowing a guard to place me onto one of the benches. The carriage has an almost comforting presence that seems to invite me into it's finery. The walls and benches are covered in a plush pillowed gold fabric, with only the doors to each of my sides black. Along the edges of the doors and the rims of the benches, the royal crown of Panem is embroidered. Two glass windows, one to the sides of my bench and the other over the doors allow the colors of the crowd to reflect against the gold in the cars. Peeta sits silently across from me on an identical bench, only staring forward as the carriage goes off with a start, leading me into my new life.

I gently push myself over to the corner and stare out the window. It's an ethereal scene that I see through the glass. The worn sandy colored stone of the palace where I grew up towers above us, and my people encompass the carriage waving goodbye and running handkerchiefs through the air. My heart tightens a bit as I catch my family standing from a balcony on the royal wing, their bright shiny clothes standing out from the dull grey of the sky.

My nose remains pressed against the window for a while. Taking in the scenery of the road. Bright fields of lively flowers, the thatched straw roofs and flat daub walls of peasant houses, and comforting rows of tall crops that brush against the windows meet me with a longing. It is only when I hear his voice calling out to me that I remove my face from the window, leaving a foggy imprint of my face against the sheet of glass.

Peeta's legs are stretched against his seat, each of his hands places against the accompanying limb. He is wearing deep blue silk breeches with tall black boots that reach his knees, a creamy silk vest that has been embroidered with a gold pattern of vines, and a long jacket that matches the breeches' in color. Strung across the seat I can see the gold handle and the leather scabbard that covers his sword.

"Katniss," he says pausing slightly to adjust his stance, "you know that technically we are married as of now. I had the order for the marriage sent about seven days ago. They should have legalized it by proxy and priest by now."

I'm not exactly sure what to make of this. Does he think me truly uncivilized or dull to the point that I have no understanding of how the legal process for marriages between countries works? Does he assume that I'm simple because I'm a girl? I'm not sure how to express either of these sentiments without angering him, so I choose a simple reply.

"Oh?"

Peeta gives me a quick grin,"Yes! Isn't is so peculiar how we are bonded together as man and wife, yet I don't know even know what your favorite color is?" he pauses to catch my reaction, "Maybe that is something we could do together, instead of just sitting here in silence and not speaking we could use this time to get to know each other. We can forget the marriage and just start off as friends. Would you like that?"

I'm not really sure if you can even be friends with somebody who has just spoken their first words to you, but it's not as if I can really say no.

"If that is what you wish..." I hesitate before adding, "My favorite color, it's green. What about you?"

He replies with earnest, "Orange."

"Orange?" I conjure up a bright color, like the oranges that come to Seam in the spring or the bright dress that the carnival men wear. Orange? Is that where his taste lies?

"Not a harsh orange, but a soft orange. Like sunset. Look out the window right now, it's setting nicely."

"Oh, I guess that is pretty," I say pressing my face once again the window. It's true. I've never been the type of person that sees all of the beauty in the world, but even I can admit the delicate swirls of colors that greet me in the sky could define the word 'pretty'.

"It is," he smiles at me and motions at me to come sit on his side of the carriage. I lift the hem of my skirt and I sit next to him. My hip is aligned to his as he continues, "You have beautiful sunsets in your country, or perhaps I should say your former country, as you know belong to Panem. I knew I was going to regret not bring my paints with me."

"You paint? What are your usual subjects?" I'm a bit surprised at this. He doesn't seem like the painting type, and I have only known women who do it an unprofessional setting. And it's a very expensive hobby, though I doubt it makes a dent in his pockets. The comment about Seam no longer being my country irks me a bit, though I suppose it's technically true.

"It differs. Sunsets, people, the merchant quarters in the Capitol. It depends on my mood. Maybe that's something we could together to save us boredom. I could paint you tomorrow, if we aren't going over a bumpy area. I wouldn't want to ruin a painting of you. Or maybe I could teach you some things? Do you think that would be enjoyable for you? I'm not sure if you would have any interest in the field."

He wants to paint me? How is it that everything he says seems to reveal another layer of his personality? I never imagined him to be so, soft? Was that it? Maybe it's just an artist thing, loving sunsets and wanting to be friends.

"Why would you want to paint me? And my mother already tried to get me involved in art, I was awful! My sketch of the palace looked like a tree!" I laugh at myself and tug a little at his arm. It's odd how comfortable I feel with him after knowing him for such a short time. I've noticed the effect he has on people before, I just never thought it would work on me. Saying he wants to paint me, asking my favorite color, commenting on the beauty of my country. It's all his way of charming me. Getting me to feel comfortable around him for whatever reason.

"Oh Katniss," he pauses, "you are a beautiful feminine subject that I could never do justice to. I've been thinking of the combination of colors that would match your eyes for quite a while. It would be nice to get an up close study of them."

It's a lie. A flat out lie. I'm not very pretty, and I am certainly not _feminine. _

"Oh," I mutter, "there is no need to flatter me," unsure of what to say I change the subject to something I have been ruminating on, "but remember how you said we could ask each other questions? I have one, but it may bring your anger on me." I wince a little, waiting for his response.

"You are my wife, at least in technical terms, the ceremony and celebration has yet to happen. You may ask me whatever you please. I will not anger with you." I doubt it's true, but I figure as long as he is being nice to me, as long as he is trying to charm me, I might as well ask the question that has burned in my brain.

"Why did you not speak to me while we were in Seam? I felt the slightest bit like you were ignoring me."

"Honestly, I didn't think it was in my rights to take up the few precious minutes you would have left with your people. I can't imagine what this is like for you. Me coming here and suddenly ripping you from the family who I can see you care deeply for."

I wonder if it's true. If he just lacked interest in me, or if he really was being compassionate towards my woes.

"Oh. I guess I can understand that. Um-" I pause as the silence grows thick, "I guess it is your turn to ask me a question, sir." Sir? How cold did that sound ringing from my throat. I'm not sure if he would mind me calling him Peeta, and I don't want to upset him.

"It's Peeta, just Peeta. You are my wife. I think it would be appropriate for you to call me by my first name, before anybody else at least. I have heard that you sing, is that true?"

What? My mind runs through a million scenarios. How would he know something like that about me? It's something only the people closest to me know, maybe a handful of people in the village and the castle staff besides my family know that I sing. It's suspicious that he would know something like this about me. I can't imagine anyone telling him.

"I sing sometimes, how did you know?"

"Oh, a little birdie told me. That isn't important," "It's your turn to ask a question, Katniss."

The words he uses makes it clear that this is no longer up for discussion, and the feeling that he is dictating me nerves me to the point that I ask the real question everybody has been wondering point blank.

"Why did you come all the way to Seam for my hand in marriage? We're a small country. We have nothing to offer you. My country is, to be honest with you, is going t shambles and I'm sure that you could find a far more suitable women among your country or a wealthier princess that could offer you things that I cannot."

Much to my surprise, he doesn't anger with me, "Katniss, did you ever hear about Prime Minister Snow? He ran my country until I was of age."

"Of course I've heard of him," I squeak out. Prime Minister Snow was a tyrant that ruled Panem for a few years. Even in Seam we heard of his atrocities.

"Well, after I turned eighteen... I had him, disposed of. Since then I have managed to restore order in my country. The people are happy and healthy. Business is more than fine, in fact it is booming. However, after the reign of my mother and with the things that Snow did there has been a disconnect between my people and their nobles," he pauses as the carriage grumbles beneath us, "well, Katniss," he brushes a strand of my hair from my face.

"Yes," I choke out. Shocked that I have allowed this man, who is both my husband and a stranger to touch me.

"Well, as I was saying. The people think kindly towards me, and so far my reign has been successful but we lack a reliability between commoner and noble. So in order to bridge that gap, I'm giving them a love story."

"A love story?" what could that possibly have to do with me.

"A love story. You see, not only do you come from, and forgive me for saying this, more relatable means, but because I gain no wealth or land from marrying you, they will think of only one reason why this has happened. That I have thought kindly on you and chosen you as my bride."

I look at him, tilting my head towards his face. It's a great idea, he must be good at this. Though it still doesn't explain everything in the way I want it to.

"But why me, not some common girl from your own country. Surely that would connect the people even better."

"You're still a Princess. It's still respectable amongst the nobles for me to take you as my wife."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," I say as my eyes begin to become weary from our long conversation, "I'm tired."

He sighs and gives me a light smile, "If you want you can lay your head on my shoulder and rest. I will not mind."

Usually I would protest, but It's true. I am tired and I allow myself to nod off on the shoulder of a man who was practically a stranger this morning.

* * *

**Author's Note: I decided to give you guys a half chapter today as a gift for all the follows. I'm not sure if you would prefer 5,000 words every few days or half of that every day/every other day. What do you think? **

**NOTE: This has not been reviewed by a beta, and I should probably read it over again before publishing but I want to get it out tonight. Any constructive criticism? What do you think of the dynamic? Am I making Katniss too drawn to him? It's just that I aways imagined Peeta as one of thsoe guys that made you feel super comfortable. **

**Also, I made a tumblr today where I post some updates/hints for the new chapters. You can also ask me anything at starveinsafety**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. All characters and settings belong to their respective owners. These are not my characters, unfortunately, these are the lovely Suzanne Collins' works.**

I am awoken by a large thud, my head slips down from it's resting point and I am jerked awake. A strong hand, a man's hand, shakes me.

"Katniss, wake up, Katniss!"

I ball my hands up against my body and make a noise of indignation, it's Peeta who is before me. I must have fallen asleep on his shoulder. Stupid stupid Katniss! I shouldn't have allowed myself to get so close to this man, even if he was technically my husband. The ceremony was yet to come, I should at least keep my guard up until then. I can't allow myself to fall under his spell like everybody else does. At least, not until I really know what his intentions were.

"Yes, Peeta?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes as I groggily awake.

"We will be arriving in Amerthirst in a short while. You should probably make yourself presentable," he says motioning towards my wrinkled dress and slept in hair.

I run my fingers through my hair, straightening it and fashioning it into a simple braid. It's not very ladylike of me, far from what the Queen of Panem ought to do, but I never claimed to be the exceptional candidate for this position. Any other princess would have protested and awaited for a servant to fix her hair. Peeta has no idea what a fool he was in choosing me to be his wife. I wouldn't be surprised if I get the axe in a couple of years.

Waking me from my morbid thoughts, Peeta raises his voice, "You should probably return to your seat. For decency's sake." It's a fair point. Being caught in this frenzied state sitting next to him would not be good for my reputation, so I crunch my dress up to my knees, not bothering about what Peeta may see, and I plop down on my original seat.

"Thanks for waking me."

"It's no problem, really. You can look out the window if you would like. The sun is starting to rise. You were out for a while."

I glance to my left, there are raindrops running along the glass. It must have rained very recently. It's still somewhat dark out, but Peeta was right. The sun is starting to rise. From what I can see in the windows, and what I can make from the sounds of the horses pounding across the ground we are on a cobblestone road. Alongside the road, there are fields and fields of tall grasses. Occasionally a small brick house of sorts with be spotted. They are small, the type that a baker or a blacksmith would reside in. With that and the road, I can safely assume that we are riding into an estate. What did Peeta call it? Amthirst?

"Where are we?"

"Amerthirst, it's the summer residence of my dear friend Lord Albernathy. He leads my council of advisors. He's a bit rough around the edges, but I am sure you can appreciate him."

As we near the end of the road, I hear the driver make a shout as we come to a halting stop.

"We must be here, Katniss," Peeta says as somebody opens the doors. It's a guard, dressed in the same livery as the day before. Red and gold. He gives a swift bow before allowing Peeta to exit and waiting a handful of paces before taking my hand and leading me out. A servant girl greets me. She is about my age. Pale skin, stunning red hair, and striking. She wears a dark simple dress that is relatively clean for spending time in the woods, a lot cleaner than I would have been if it was not for my rest. She is beautiful for a servant, although maybe she had been hand selected for that fact. The people from the Capitol seemed to have a thing for beauty.

The house is probably half the size of where I grew up, and it's in an immaculate state. About fifty windows in the front, a mixture of off white stones and gold accents greet me. It's bathed in luxury from the smallest flower to the enormous fountain that runs in front of the property. From where we are walking I can see the elaborate and bright green trees and bushes that line the mansion in a pattern.

I can't imagine how a simple Lord can afford this just as a summer house. If this is what the summer houses look like, I don't think I will even be able to process the palace in the Capitol. I've heard about it of course. Everybody has from Rueland to Tretze. It was built about a hundred years ago, when they moved court to the Capitol. From what I have heard, the Palace has over seven hundred rooms, a ballroom covered entirely in mirrors, and acres and acres of gardens. It may just be rumors though, I'd have to ask Peeta. I curse myself for that. I can't start depending on Peeta for anything. Not for my country's safety, not for my adjustment into the capitol, not even for my daily bread. If I am going to survive here, I will do it on my own terms.

* * *

That's how the next few days go by. A night is spent with the Albernathy clan. Lady Maysilee is sweet and well bred. The Lord is a bit of a drunk, sort of a fool too, and it makes me question Peeta's ability to run the country. What type of King puts a drunk as their advisor?

When I ask, Peeta only tells me that, "He is the only person here I can truly trust. When it comes down to it, he will be there when he is needed. Preferably drunk, he's an odd man when he's sober."

We spend another night in a six story house in a bustling city. Peeta isn't close with the people there, I can only imagine we made the stop for diplomacy's sake. I hold my tongue the entire time, scared of saying something wrong. I think the ladies assume I'm dull, but I can't be bothered enough to care about how the gossip will effect my reputation. It's there, in the city, where Peeta instructs me how to act around the crowds. The royal carriage takes a ride through the main street, and Peeta smiles and waves at the crowd. We look affectionate, but not in any way that may seem improper. I hold a couple of common children. Lady Glimmer, or something silly like that, congratulates me on my ability not to puke while holding peasant children. I make a note to make sure she is excluded from my court.

Peeta attempts to make conversation here and there, and I manage to answer his questions without getting too involved. I think it bothers him, but he never raises his voice so I continue with my yes and no answers and spend my time in the carriage looking out from the window.

There are a couple of ceremonies along the way. I take my place as the dutiful woman, holding Peeta's hand and smiling as he speaks to the crowd and pardons criminals. He's a natural at this, or at least he's better than me. He seems to be gracious enough. When he pardons a woman for stealing a loaf of bread, and quietly instructs a guard to give her some coins, noting to me that the children seemed thin, I finally understand why everybody loves him. He doesn't even make what he does public.

We spend most nights in separate bedrooms, tucked away in lavish rooms surrounded by our own guards and servants. Every once in a while though, we end up spending the night in the carriage. At first when I am told of the arrangement, I panic.

_"Katniss," he wakes me up._

_"I slept through something again?"_

_"That you did," he chuckles, "that you did. A servant got you situated like this. I've been making arrangements. I'm sorry for the conditions, I really am. I would never wish for you to have to do this. We were expected to be in Amerthirst by nightfall. I have a friend who lives there during these months, Lord Albernathy, he's on my council, anyways he has a lovely palace by this lake and we were expected to spend the night there. It's unsettling for everybody to see their future Queen like this, and I'm afraid we are going to have to spend the night in our carriage."_

_We will have to share our carriage? Did that mean that I would have to spend the night with him, alone, in the carriage? We were technically married, so I suppose it was proper, but still. They hadn't even had the ceremony. Oh god. What if he wanted to do that with me. What if he took me forcefully. He had seemed nice and they had a good conversation, but he was too charming for me to really trust. He was my husband by law, so it would be his right to have that. He probably hadn't done "it" in a while and they were probably going to end up in tight quarters together. I panicked a little, my heartbeats increased and my breath hitched. I had known eventually when I married I would have to do that, it was my duty to give my husband a child, but at least I would have had time to prepare._

_Maybe that's why he was so nice to me. Maybe that's why he made the point of assuring me our marriage was already held in the eyes of the priests and the people. He surely couldn't have predicted this, but perhaps he had been prepping for when we would end up at different estates along the way. He would be tired and bored from the journey, surely taking his wife carnally would be in his plans._

_"Katniss," he says, placing his hand on my arm, "are you alright. You look a little pale. Would you like a servant to get you some water?"_

_I blanch, what do I say to that? I don't want to make it seem obvious that I'm revolted by the thought of sharing a bed with him._

_"I think I just need to clear my head. This dress is getting a little stuffy," I say._

In the end he doesn't touch me. Not in that way, at least. He just wraps his hand against my waist and we both fall asleep to the sound of the road rumbling beneath us.

* * *

On the last day of our journey, Peeta and I spend the hours letting him teach me a game similar in some ways to checkers. It's called Chess. I'm not very good at it, but the manipulation reminds me of my own life. I'm the pawn in everybody's chess game. When I tell this to Peeta he laughs and reminds me that I'm the Queen. The strongest piece in the game.

I can see myself letting him in one day. When I know him, when I know what he wants from me, maybe, just maybe, we could have something together. Not love, I don't love in that way, it's not possible for people like me to feel that type of love. We could friends, though, someday, like he said he wanted. I can stitch up the scars of my heart and try at least, for the sake of my country's well being.

* * *

**Author's Note: What did you think? For those of you who worried, we are going to see a lot of strong warrior Katniss in the next few chapters. FYI, it's my birthday so I didn't get to write as much, but I rewrote this chapter from scratch several times. PLEASE tell me if you don't like something.**

**- You can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety.**

**- I'm still looking for a beta that is good with grammar/content ideas. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the Hunger Games series. The Hunger Games trilogy is the property of Suzanne Collins and her publishers.**

The palace is enormous from what I have seen. It's decked in different colored marble, excessively gold covered statues and fixtures, and crystal chandeliers that are bigger than the trees back home. One hallway I pass through has a ceiling elaborately painted with different religious and historical scenes, adorned with gold details. Well lit chandeliers line the way every ten paces, their light reflecting against the marble framed ceiling to floor mirrors that we pass. Opulent chairs and benches covered in a dark blue and silver floral pattern line the halls. Usually they are filled with people, nobles or commoners who have been given access, but this portion of the castle has been set aside for the wedding ceremony.

Duchess Effie, the escort who has been given the prestigious position of aiding me through my transition to Capitol life, is an overly perky, manner obsessed woman in her late twenties. She's dressed in a ridiculous fashion. Bright blue dress that extends about five feet at the hips, matching three cornered hat adorned with an assortment of ribbons and feathers, and elbow length blue gloves that go perfectly with her light blue choker. She's terribly over done, but unlike some of the people here she seems to genuinely care.

Her gown is a hundred times nicer than my finest dress back home, but even it does not compare to what I am currently wearing. Eight layers of thick petticoats and crinoline, too tight stays, a light yellow silk cover petticoat that peeks through my gown, well made lace cuffs, soft pink buckled shoes with a slight heel embroidered with tiny yellow flowers, and a ruffled pink satin dress with a beautiful yellow floral stomacher. It's yet another one of Cinna's creations, and while it is not in any sense something that I would be interested in wearing, it is absolutely gorgeous. If only my sweet sister Prim could see me now.

Effie informs me, as she gives me a quick tour through the sumptuous palace, that the rumors I have heard are true. This palace, which is to some degree my property, sports over eighth hundred rooms, a ballroom of mirrors, and several hundred acres of gardens and courtyards.

"You know, Madame Katniss, you have a real opportunity here to set an example for those who are less fortunate that manners and grace do not only belong to those of a higher birth, look at you, you're from Seam and you will be the Queen of one of the greatest nations in history."

I wrinkle my nose. People who are struggling to make ends meet don't have the time for "grace" or "manners". She is so out of touch. I can't even blame her for being an idiot, even if she offhandedly insulted me. These people are incredibly weird. Bright colors, overdone hair, ridiculous outfits, and unnecessary manners. It's as if they have never left the walls of the Palace. I suppose this is what happens to people when they have excess amounts of food and money. Even the "poor" people here are wealthy in comparison to the people in my country. It's obscene, really. The bakers, shop owners, workers, etc. are considered the lower class. The nation is a lot wealthier than I had assumed.

I don't tell Effie this, though. I'm afraid if I say too much around these people they will mock me. They already think I'm uncivilized, I don't need to give them any more ammo.

"Of course. It is my duty to be an example for my people. We never really had the occasion in Seam, but I would love to learn more," I lie.

Her face softens, head tilting as she lifts up her hands in the odd clappy way that I have noticed people do here, "Oh, you poor dear. I can't imagine the life you had over there. Don't worry. You are one of the most important and well respected people in the world now. We will make sure to take good care of you here."

There is nothing for her to be sympathetic about. I had a very grand lifestyle compared to some of my people who starved and went without, but I'm fairly certain her definition of starvation is going two hours without a feast. I try to fit in though, and not say anything about what real suffering is.

"Oh, thank you. You have been a real help in the short time I have been here," I give a big bright fake smile and remember to take small ladylike steps as we near the door.

"What did you say we were here for again?" I don't remember her mentioning exactly why we were here but

"Katniss you shouldn't let," Effie falters for the first time,"Excuse me, Madame Katniss you should not allow yourself to be hurt by anything that may happen. She's a bit off of her wagon, if I may be allowed to speak about such an esteemed person in that manner. Katniss, uh, Her Majesty, the former and honored Queen of Panem has requested your presence. She would like to meet the woman her son has selected to rule our country."

* * *

Peeta warned me about his mother. He distinctly pointed out, probably the only negative comment towards someone or something he had ever made.

_"Katniss, you should be made aware that you will meet my mother eventually. My mother isn't all there, and she is not, to put it lightly, the nicest person in this world. Not to cause you to think of such ill things, but if she was not my mother her head would no longer be on her shoulders, if you get the meaning. She has committed crimes against her people. Her opinion of you is not valid by any degree. However, it should be made known that she has the ear of many a fine gossiper in the Capitol and she will not think well of you. Foolish rumors may be started by her. It is your position as a Queen to ignore these remarks. She will judge you on your position in the world, and she will make it known to you that she doesn't think kindly of my choice in a wife. Do not allow her to bother you."_

I hadn't thought much of it at the time, I assumed everybody thought poorly of their mother and while I had heard things about her I wasn't that worried about the opinions of some old hag. But now, as the woman sits before me, I start to worry.

She's not as old as I imagined, a little younger than my mother would be, although not as nearly as attractive. She is dressed from head to toe in black, the color of a widow still in mourning. Thin yellow blonde hair pulled back in uniform style, not a strand out of place beneath her elegant black hat. Her dead blue eyes may share the resemblance of her son's in terms of color, but they do not breathe the same type of life and sparkle that Peeta's do.

She's sitting on an emerald green parlor settee, a pink floral chair across from her that she motions for me to be seated on. I comply, anxiously noting that Effie has left me stranded here with only a handful of guards to protect me from this woman.

"You know, Katniss, I will call you that as I am currently hoping that he will revoke your status before the ceremony, or at the very least cause you to lose your head," she speaks up, her voice void of any emotion.

I knew she wasn't that great of a person, but I certainly expected for her to have some decorum to resist wishing my death without even knowing me. For a woman half my stature, she commands fear with every word.

"My son has banished me to this prison of a wing, so unfortunately I will be unable to attend your wedding. However, I would like to make it known that I do not approve in the slightest of your position here. My son is a love struck idiot with the sensibility of a parrot."

Love struck? Does that mean she believes the stories? Does it even matter. Her mocking tone drives anger down my spine, and I resist the urge to wrap my hands around her puny little neck by pushing town on my thumb with my hand.

"You know, it's treason, punishable by death, to speak of the King in that manner," I comment, straightening my back.

She rolls her eyes at me, "Peeta doesn't have the testicles for that. He's always been soft like his father, it's a real shame his brothers weren't able to take his place. They would have done a million times better at ruling this country than him."

I rise to Peeta's defense. Whatever he may be, from what I can tell he's an exceptional King.

"I think your son has done a great job at running this country. How can you deny that? Look around you, the country is in an exceptional state. It would be my advice not to anger me," I hiss, "I for one do not have any problem with telling Peeta that you should no longer reside here."

She changes the subject, "You know Katniss, I knew your unfortunately late mother before she turned out so messed up. Nightlock was it? How unfortunate for everybody involved. I truly send my sympathies towards your family. It must have been really hard to lose such a woman."

She knew my mother? I mean, I knew my mother grew up at the edge of Panem, and that her father was a simple noble, but I was unaware of any relationship between the two women.

"You knew my mother," I say wrinkling my forehead.

"Ah, yes. Pretty little thing, such beauty wasted. She could have had far more wealth if she had applied herself. Maybe then I wouldn't have a little slut like you in my palace. Your husband's father and I spent summers when we were young at your maternal family's estate. Maybe now that you aren't such a disappointment they will take interest in you."

Peeta's father knew my mother? My mother never mentioned anything about it, other than saying she thought Panem was well run. How odd, I'd have to mention it to Peeta.

"I didn't know that. Thank you for informing me."

"You're more like her than you would allow yourself to think. Although, at least in your case you seem to be a survivor. If there is anything positive to say about you, I do have to say I admire your streng-" she is interrupted as a red and gold clad messenger bursts through the door unannounced, causing the guards to bring their hands to their swords.

He raises his hands, "Sorry, I mean no harm towards their Majesties. I have been sent by our King to cut this meeting short immediately. She," he motions towards me,"is requested immediately in alterations.

Peeta has saved me.

**Author's Note: Okay, I really need a beta. Other than that, I'm worried that this is too rushed or that the story is going downhill and I would love your opinions. I really need to find a beta who is good with grammar/concepts.**

**Other than that, you call follow me at starveinsafety. I would love to answer any questions. Thanks for all the 'Happy Birthdays' I received. It was really sweet of all of you.**

**As far as Mrs. Mellark's behavior, I intended her to be a little of her hinges because she can basically get away with whatever. Although, we will see how Peeta deals with those that hurt Katniss. (Hint hint.)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own anything in the Hunger Games Trilogy universe. These characters and the books are the sole property of Suzanne Collins and her publishers. I only wish I owned this lovely trilogy, I would be on a hundred foot yacht in Hawaii right now chilling with Jennifer Lawrence if I did... **

I spend a few hours in alterations. It's terribly boring, but even then I still have to thank Peeta, because it's a million times better than being with that wretched woman. How on earth did somebody as diplomatic as Peeta come from that beast? His father must have been a fucking angel to even that out.

The dress itself is very beautiful. Unlike most of the gowns that are in style, the dress does not go out ten feet at the hips. There's no expansion at the hips, instead the dress sticks to a very traditional style. Off white silk, covered in gold embroidered flowers cling to the front of my body, flowing freely at my waist and descending into a twenty foot train. Along the neckline diamonds line my breasts shining as the light from the windows casts a shadow on my skin. The cost for just the diamonds along my bosom could feed my entire country for a couple of years, that's not even counting the heavy assortment of diamonds and crystals that line the train.

"Duquesa Katniss," Cinna says to me, running his fingers through my hair as he plays around with different styles.

"Yes," I say trying not to move so I won't mess anything up.

"If you are worrying about the weight," I was. The dress was a burden on my back and my arms ached from the jewels lined along the sleeves, "You will only be wearing it for the ceremony, of course. I have designed other gowns an inch above the floor for dancing that only include pearls. They will be significantly lighter. However, you will be wearing one of Panem's famed jewels, the Aphrodisiac of Taraxacum, a fort carat diamond along your neck for the procession. When I am given the authorization we can attempt to see how to place it in the most comfortable way."

Cinna makes me feel at home with his caring words. He's the only person here who I have met that seems normal and down to earth. He's soft spoken and doesn't carry the accent as harshly. When I am given the power, I will remember to honor him in some way for his good deeds.

It will be my position to reward and punish those in the court when I take my official place as Queen, two days after tomorrow's ceremony. I'm going to have the power to make people live and die, and it frightens me.

* * *

After alterations are complete, I am escorted by a servant girl into a long narrow room with dark velvety burgundy walls and carpets that appear to be from the East. Along the walls there are heavy mahogany bookshelves filled to the brim with different editions of classics. I run my hands along them as I pace throughout the room. Books are expensive. The official library in Seam probably had around this many, and this is just a random room. I wonder if I would be given access to the court's library. There had to be some benefit to being a Queen.

Somebody bursts through the door, It's Duchess Effie in an outfit I have not yet seen. It's a bit more simple than any of her other dresses, just a pink silk dress with a rose covered stomacher. While the dress itself is simple, she has opted for a frame that brings her hips out to around five feet, occasionally brushing up against a vase as she flutters through the room.

"Madame Katniss, it is a pleasure to be reunited with you again," she smiles at me and gives a polite half curtsy. I don't smile back. I'm still annoyed that she left me with Peeta's deranged mother.

"Why am I here, Duchess?" I ask in a plain manner.

She perks up, "As your escort it is my duty to instruct you on protocol. We have already gone over the basics of the ceremony, where you need to be and that sort. I would like to have the opportunity to work on your walk and manner today. Because of your _upbringing _I am afraid you aren't well instructed on the manners and customs that are accepted at the Capitol," she says motioning for me to sit on the light blue parlor chair across from her.

It's a bit insulting, and it makes me want to curse at her or be defiant but I know I have to be polite as I'm stuck here for the rest of my existence. It may not be iron bars, but this position and marriage will always be a prison.

"Of course, I'm very interested in the customs of Panem. It's beautiful."

"See, I knew you were a doll. What do they do in Seam again? Coal? You're like a little piece of coal, with enough pressure you can become the pearl of Panem."

It's a diamond, and it's a myth anyways but I don't bother correcting her. She seems quite satisfied with herself.

"Well, first of all. There should no fidgeting of your legs," she says pointedly at my legs, which I have been swinging back and forth.

"I'm sorry," I bring my feet to a halt, allowing them to dangle against the floor.

"It's no problem, dear. We can't blame you for how you were raised. Here, take these two books and walk from the door to the window without allowing them to fall."

I'm not exactly sure what it's supposed to accomplish, but I take the books, _The History of Panem: Volume 09 _and _Philosophies on Modern Gaming, _place them on my head and easily walk from the door to the window without dropping the books._  
_

It's not very hard. I'm a hunter and I have developed a light tread over the years of independently scouring the forests with Gale.

Gale. I wonder what he is doing now. I wonder if he misses me. I wonder if-

I'm cut off by Duchess Effie's excited claps, "Marvelous, marvelous. You have far more grace than I expected when you try! Where on earth did you learn to take such lovely steps?"

"Hunting in the woods with Gale," I answer honestly, hoping to get a kick out of her reaction.

She wrinkles her nose, "Hunting? Outside? I heard things but, oh-," she stops herself, "you turned out rather well from that type of life. Letting their beautiful daughter go traipsing through the woods with some male, it's a shame. You poor thing."

Her face once again rushes with sympathy due to things that are nothing to be sympathetic about.

"It's alright. My parents never particularly approved of my actions. But I enjoyed it, and Gale, he's the heir apparent and we were to be wed before this," I say, adding to the scandal of my hobbies, "He enjoyed it quite a bit too."

I know I'm alluding to something that never happened, the brush of my voice hints at something more sexual between my relationship with Gale, but it's fun playing with Duchess Effie's mind. She's not a gossip, so I will not be harmed by it and it makes all my other faults pale in comparison.

"Oh, why don't we stop this conversation and go through the the process of the ceremony one more time for memory's sake."

We end up spending the rest of the day going through maps, itineraries, and a long history of the wedding customs of Panem's royalty. At the end of it, I could probably write a book on the ceremony. It's incredibly complicated. In Seam we have much simpler and meaningful customs, a toasting for the bride and groom. A ball or celebration for the town if you are a noble or a wealthy merchant. We keep everything intimate and special, nothing is really for show. Although I suppose everything is more decorative when you have an abundance of money.

I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the extravagance.

* * *

When I lie in bed that night I rub my hands along the soft fabric of the pale blue sheets, thinking about what tomorrow will bring for me. This is the last night I will spend alone (if you can call, one maid on a pallet on the floor and two guards dutifully standing near the door "alone") in my own bed. By tomorrow night I will be sharing a bed with my husband on our wedding night. I've never done anything of that nature before, as a woman I have remained pure until my wedding. Peeta probably has had a lot of experience in that department. He has quite literally the most beautiful women in the world throwing themselves at him. I hope that his experience will make up for my lack. If he knows what to do, maybe it will not be as bad. I know it always hurts the first time, but some women joke about the pleasure that comes from sex.

Soon Peeta and I will be expected to have children. My main duty as his wife will be to give him a legal heir, a son. I've never particularly wanted to be a mother, even though I knew no matter who I married I would end up having to be one. Granted, any child of mine will be raised by a troop of nursemaids and nannies. I will not be expected to do a lot of mothering, which I suppose is a good thing as I can't imagine I would be very good at it.

It's gross, menstrual cycles, having a baby. Having some type of alien creature growing in your body, worst of all giving birth. Even if I survived childbirth I would have to deal with the aftermath of effects to my body.

Suddenly it all hit me, the wave of different emotions fell over my body in a raging storm. In order not to alert anybody, I soundlessly screamed into the pillow, beating my fists against the mattress. I didn't want this for my life! Why did he have to come here and take me away from Prim and everybody else. Oh, Prim, how I would give anything to see her face again. I sobbed into the pillow, wetting it with the salty tears and using my hand to wipe my face.

The momentary loss of control reminded me of the reality of the situation. I had spent the past few days deluding myself into forgetting about all the people I left home and what it would be like marrying this man. It was a lifelong sacrifice, and even though I had to suck up the tears and smile I had to keep myself aware of everything. I couldn't let myself just go along with everybody pushing me around like this. I had to be strong. I couldn't be the little teenage girl from the backwards country that everybody saw.

I had to be a Queen.

**Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update! I'm on vacation for Christmas, but I managed to get some time to write something up for you guys as a little Christmas present to all of those who celebrate. What did you think? Are you excited for the wedding/wedding night (hint! hint!)? Am I rushing? Anything that you have to say that is constructive is appreciated. I do take your reviews into consideration for the chapters.**

**Also, would any of you be interested in this Everlark story? : **

**Katniss and Gale illegally hunt to provide for their families, they both get caught and because Katniss is a young female (which complicates a sentence that would usually be placed on a male) she is sent in front of the King (Peeta) for her sentence. I'm not going to give away the catch, but let's just say that his sentence is a bit unusual.**

**It's a lot more developed than it sounds, I already have the entire plot and relationship development mapped out. I just don't want to give away too much. As you can probably tell, I like King Peeta stories:) This was something I had in my head for a while and I would love to get it out there.**

**Special thanks to my beta, chicanita11! You can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Hunger Games Universe. All of the characters/places presented here from the books are not mine in any way. I did base the ballroom scene after a scene from Catching Fire, the second book in The Hunger Games Trilogy. **

I'm awoken by gentle shaking, by the black sleeve I can see through my slightly opened eye, and the soft timid voice saying, "Madame Katniss, it is time to wake up, Madame Katniss, you need to wake now," I can assume the maid has come to wake me.

I've slept through the night, and now it's the day I'll remember for the rest of my life. I'll look back on this day, the people will look back on this day, as one of the most important days in Panem's history. It's odd to be living the day you will remember forever. You'll always look back on these days and think, I should have done this or I'm glad I did that. But you can't change it. You only get to live it once. You only get one wedding day if you're a woman.

The maid shakes me again, this time a bit harder, "You have to wake up, Madame, it's your wedding day. You have to arrive at the chapel before the sun rises."

It's my wedding day.

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and gently rub them, "I'm awake," I tell the girl as I remove my bare legs from the comfort of the warm covers and throw them onto the cold wood floor.

"Where am I supposed to be?" I ask the girl, rolling down the white sleeves of my nightgown.

The servant girl that attends to me, is very attractive like the others. I must be getting the best maids, because of my role as future Queen. She reminds me a bit of Prim, not in coloring, she has dark skin and rough thick hair I'm not familiar with, but in stature. She's perched on obviously brand new black boots, looking like a little bird before it takes flight. She looks around Prim's age too, and it's comforting, especially on a day like this; to have a piece of home.

She looks up at me, obviously intimidated, "They will be here to prep you in a few minutes, as soon as I get somebody to make sure they know you have woken. I'm quick, so probably soon. Although, I'm not that quick. Thresh is the fastest of all of us. He works in the stables, but he's training to be a guard. He's good. Sae says he will get a position soon."

She says more than the other servants, more than the curt answers that I usually receive. It's nice, the childlike rambling innocence.

I've grown up so much in the past few weeks, and I've been surrounded by stuffy lifeless people that her bright youth and childish innocence is enjoyable to be around, I make a note in my head to make sure she stays in my court. My ladies in waiting have been chosen, not by me, but by others who have selected them for political and social qualities. I can, at the very least, have the ability to choose my maids.

I push myself back on to the covers, scooting on to the bed as the girl gives a hasty cutsy and turns to leave, her feet pushing off in flight.

"Wait," I call out, causing her to stop short and turn around slowly to me.

"Is there anything else you need, Madame?" she asks me, fidgeting as she is probably late to fetch those who will prep me.

"Yes, what's your name. Then you may get on with it."

She looks at me, confused as to why somebody like me would ask somebody like her for a name, "Rue. It's Rue."

"Thank You, you can run along now," I say motioning her towards the door. Rue. It's very fitting for her.

A few minutes pass before my prep team arrives, shuffling in wearing rather simple clothes, simple muslin gowns that I assume are temporary due to the masks of makeup and the hair that has been pinned up, waiting for a wig to be placed on it.

They lead me, wearing nothing but my nightgown, into the room that adjoins mine. It's set up like an oversized dressing room, rolls and rolls of lace and fabric line the wall where the windows are. Bright sunshine seeps through and cast a bright light on the opposing wall that is filled with numerous dressers and privacy screens, one with what appears to be my wedding dress placed over it.

The prep team makes me stand on a little platform, quickly slipping the nightgown over my head and forcing me into a choking corset. It's more attractive than the other ones I've worn,its solid white with tiny blue ribbons laced across the top.

"For the King's pleasure," Octavia says with a little wink that reminds me of what will come tonight.

They roll thin translucent stockings up my legs, held up with a garters that match my corset, and simple white pantaloons with that stupid blue lace on the covered bottoms. They tie me tightly into a simple hoop skirt, occasionally commenting on how lovely I look.

The rogue is simple, just a quick dab of red on my cheeks and two small diamonds uncomfortably attached to the sides of my eyes.

"Well," Octavia says as she runs her hands through my dark hair, running an iron through it to form curls that are fastened with gold lace ribbons. "This is where we part, Sir Cinna will be responsible for the dress and final touches. We have a limited time to prepare the event, so we will have to part, I'm afraid. Well wishes, my queen." She gives what is intended to be a solemn look, but it just comes out funny and I bite my lip to avoid laughing.

After the little troop leaves, I am left with only a handful of guards and a few servants, until Cinna burst through the doors, flustered.

"I apologize for being late, Madame. We had some issues securing the necklace," he motions towards the guards behind him, carrying a large wooden box that presumably carries the necklace I will wear today. They stand there on the opposite wall, never even glancing at Cinna, with the aid of a few servants, secures my wedding gown. It's heavier than I expected, the long train trails across the lush carpet of the room, I'm glad it's only a ceremony gown. I can handle it for the few hours that I must wear it.

Finally, when I am off the dressing platform, and ready at the door, the necklace is removed from the carved mahogany box and placed upon my neck. It's larger than I expected, and the rising sunlight lights up the room as it glints off of the jewels. It's has a massive oval diamond, one that could probably fund a few minor wars, surrounded by smaller red rubies and set in gold that matched the trimmings on my gown.

Several guards, dressed in their finest livery and probably hand selected for the duty, lead me out of my room and through the many halls of palace. There's a pathway that has been set aside for this purpose, and what appears to be merchants and similar commoners of status line the halls, whispering amongst themselves and throwing flowers and such at my feet as I pass. It's odd to think this will be a highlight of their life, seeing somebody like me.

Regardless of anything Peeta may say, I was not made to be a queen. I wasn't born to be somebody that important. I'm not like Prim or my mother. I don't care for functions or lace work. I'm not a lady in any sense.

Eventually our little group reaches the thirty foot exquisitely carved mahogany doors of the entrance to the gardens. I stand back, accompanied by two rather handsome guards decked in different medals, they are far too young to have been in a recent war, so I assume they are the younger sons of important lords that have taken their place in the service.

If I wasn't a bride. If I wasn't here. I would probably find their looks desirable, but that isn't my place as a wife.

When the doors are opened, the sounds of the bustling crowd of nobles that I could hear through the walls, falls silent at my presence. I look out at the courtyard before me, to my right and left there are nobles decked in extravagant gowns and livery that matches the pastel colors and bright greens of the surrounding gardens. At the end of the silk covered pathway, a golden blonde man stands at an altar.

It's Peeta, decked in gold breeches and a matching coat, a simple blue and silver medal across his left shoulder.

My breath hitches with nervousness as my mind swarms with fear. I force myself to take repetitive steps as we reach the end of the pathway, the guards support my steps as we walk up the cream marble steps to the raised covered platform. In front of me, a white haired priest covered from neck to toe in a rich red shift with gold trimmings, stands slightly above me over a gold plated altar that holds a single sheet of paper.

My marriage document.

It brings terror to me, and my breath inhales and exhales spastically, my raised breasts moving up and down across the neckline, patterned to the rising and falling of my chest.

I repeat it over in my head as they unhand me, removing their arms and dutifully standing to the side. My name is Katniss of the Everdeen House. I am going to be a Queen. I am going to marry King Peeta. I will be a dutiful wife and bear him children. My name is Katniss…

I barely even notice I closed my eyes, until I feel a little tap on my shoe. It's Peeta, I know it, he's the only person close enough to me, save for the elder Priest that is solemnly looking down at us from his altar. He's standing about two feet across from me, his gold coat waist swaying in the light breeze that lifts the edge of his golden locks from my his face, swaying them gently across his forehead.

It's odd to think that by tonight we will have consummated the marriage. I don't have time to fret over tonight's events, because the priest's voice bellows out to the crowd. Causing both of us to look forward, our eyes trained on the movement of the man's mouth.

"These two people have been brought before their people for the sake of joining two countries in holy matrimony under the presence of God. All here who stand before their beloved King, to join Duquesa Katniss Elisabeth Anise of the Everdeen House to the reigning Mellark House of Panem," the man pauses, his eyes moving out to the crowd of nobles, "Would King Peeta Edward Rye of the Mellark House please step forward and read the oath before him."

Peeta gives me a quick smile, his face bright and happy, void of the worry that seems to fill mine, and takes a step forward, his black boots making a hollow sound as they press against the floor.

"Behold my oath that I will take no woman besides Duquesa Katniss Elisabeth Anise of the Everdeen House," he gives a quick glance from the paper to meet his blue eyes to mine.

"Here I take Duquesa Katniss Elisbeth Anise of the Everdeen House as my wife, under the eyes of God and the people of Panem. That I may remain morally and physically faithful to my wife."

Peeta pauses, and looks up at the priest, who in return raises his voice, "King Peeta Edward Rye of the Mellark House, please sign your name under the oath of your people and your crown."

A servant boy around ten walks up to Peeta with a platter, lifting the silver cover to reveal a single fine burgundy pen that Peeta takes with a nod to the boy, reaching over and signing his name, which sends a screeching noise out towards the quiet crowd.

He turns to me and ceremoniously hands me the ink filled pen as the priest yet again raises his voice, "Would Katniss Elisabeth Anise of the Everdeen House please step forward and read the oath before her."

I obey, allowing the flower children to lift the train of my skirt as I take a single step towards the altar, meeting Peeta with a forced smile.

It takes everything in me not to puke.

My voice is shakey, "Here I take King Peeta Edward Rye of the Mellark House," I gulp and hesitantly continue, "as my husband, under the eyes of God and the people of Panem. That I may remain morally and physically faithful to husband, obedient under the house of King," I say as I hastily scribble my name to the left of Peeta's.

I've never been very good at obedience, but I no longer have the choice that I did when I was young in my father's house. I am a wife now. It is my duty to cater to Peeta's needs.

"May the country of Panem and God see this couple as husband and wife, blessed under the honorable court, that this couple is the reigning monarchy of Panem. Would King Peeta of the Mellark House, and his newly wed wife Queen Katniss of the Mellark House, please be crowned under the eyes of God and the people."

There it is. I am officially the Queen of Panem, and the wife of the King. I am no longer the property of my father, but instead I belong to Peeta's. To do with as he pleases.

Two bishops step from the sides of the platform, where they had previously been standing. Dressed similarly to the priest who has joined us in marriage, they simultaneously accept towering gold crowns from young servant boys dressed in light blue, placing the heavy pieces on to both of our heads with a bow.

I turn around from the priest, facing the walkway that had led me to the platform previously, as Peeta takes my hand and raises it to the crowd, which errupts with cheers in our direction.

Peeta lowers our hands and takes the first step down the marble platform, bringing me with him. I ignore the lump in my throat and take small ladylike steps once again down the pathway.

* * *

I am slipped into a different gown, a silver thing that rises two inches above the floor and expands six feet around my hips. It's perfect for dancing, and it fits right in with the crowd of Dukes and Ladies that fill the ballroom.

It's Cinna's words that force me to resolve my fears, "You looked visibly shaky out there. It is my job to help you make an impression, but you have to take your place, dear. When you go out there you need to shine. Laugh, smile, relax, act like a girl in love, everybody out there needs to know who you are to them. This is a deciding moment in your place as Queen. Make an impression on them."

I decide, at that moment, that I will do as he suggested and I suppress the lump in my throat, replacing it with the best carefree smile I can manage.

The party, held in the mirrored ballroom of the palace, has no equal. The forty-foot ceiling has been transformed into the night sky with the use of thick blue velvet tapestries and lights, the "stars" look exactly as they do at home. I suppose they look the same from the Capitol, but who would know? There has been too much light from the bustling palace to see the stars from the time I have spent here.

About halfway between the floor and the ceiling, musicians play soft music on round stone platforms. Traditional dining tables have been replaced by innumerable stuffed sofas and chairs, some surrounding fireplaces, others beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish, so that people can eat and drink and do whatever they please in the utmost comfort. There's a large tiled area in the center of the room that serves as everything from a dance floor, to a stage for the performers who come and go, to another spot to mingle with the flamboyantly dressed guests.

But the real star of the evening is the food. Tables laden with delicacies line the walls. Everything you can think of, and things you have never dreamed of, lie in wait. Whole roasted cows and pigs and goats still turning on spits. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savory fruits and nuts. Ocean creatures

drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads,vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flicker with flames.

My appetite has returned with my' desire to fight back. After weeks of feeling too worried to eat, I'm famished.

"I want to taste everything in the room," I tell Peeta, who has been accompanying me as my newly appointed husband, his body next to mine through the entire night.

I can see him trying to read my expression, to figure out my transformation from the worried scattered girl at the ceremony. Since I have not spoken about my fears for tonight, he does not know that while I have put on a face, inside my heart and mind are stirring anxiously. Perhaps even that I have some genuine happiness at our matrimony. His eyes reflect his puzzlement but only briefly, because we're surrounded by the crowd of nobles.

"Then you'd better pace yourself," he says giving a brief wave towards a baron of some sorts.

"Okay, no more than one bite of each dish," I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups, when I encounter a creamy pumpkin brew sprinkled with slivered nuts and tiny black seeds. "I could just eat this all night!" I exclaim. But I don't.

I weaken again at a clear green broth that I can only describe as tasting like springtime,

and again when I try a frothy pink soup dotted with raspberries.

Faces appear, names are exchanged, smiles are faked, kisses brushed by his warm lips on to my cheeks. Peeta and I spend our wedding ceremony, talking with the higher nobles and smiling to the crowds. I've managed to keep myself together and gather my senses, but inside I'm breaking as the hours pass till midnight, when we will break from the crowd and share a bed.

Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food.

Every table presents new temptations, and even on my restricted one-taste-per-dish regimen, I begin filling up quickly. I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce.

Delicious.

But I hand the remainder to Peeta, which he eats dutifully, because I want to keep tasting things, and the idea of throwing away food, as I see so many people here doing so casually, is abhorrent to me. After about ten tables I'm stuffed, and we've only sampled a small number of the dishes available.

It's wonderful to me, but to Peeta it seems like a normal occurrence. It probably is here, for all I know.

Peeta sets the plate on one of the tables, giving me a bright giddy smile as he takes my hand in his.

"Come on, my dear, let's dance."

Music filters down from the balcony as he leads me away from the team, the table, and out onto the floor. The bustling flurry of light blues, salmon pinks, and sunlight yellows parts with the crowd as their King takes my hand and brings me to the center of the ballroom floor, the mirrored walls changing shade with the movement of the crowd as our bodies flow into the prepared waltz.

It was a simple dance, one I had practiced from an early age with one of my mother's ladies in waiting,

"I'm not a very good dancer, I'm afraid I have always had two left feet, you, on the other hand are quite graceful when you are in the mood," he says to me, his blue eyes twinkling as we take a simultaneous step, the silver fabric of my skirt hitting the gold of his jacket.

I give him my first genuine smile all night. It's true. He isn't a very good dancer.

"I may have the right natural inclinations for this, but I'm afraid I never paid a lot of attention during my lessons. We have the opposite problems, you know the steps, but lack the ability. I have the ability, but lack the knowledge. We make a rather odd pair on the dance floor."

He pulls his foot back as we take a step, "We make a rather odd pair in general. That's what is interesting about us, as a couple of course."

"Of course," I mutter, annoyed that he had to bring us up.

He must notice, because he frowns a bit as he speaks, "I noticed that you were upset during the ceremony."

"I wasn't upset, I was just nervous," I lie as the flowing music comes to a halt, and he gives a small bow to the crowd, leading me to the edge of the ballroom, his smile never faltering.

"You shouldn't bother to lie," he says, his soft hands running against the lace on my sleeve, "You aren't very good at it."

"I'm sorry I wasn't born as an innate liar," I scoff at him, regretting it almost immediately. I don't want to anger him when there is an hour until midnight. I don't need him to take it out on me tonight when we will be completely alone.

"I shouldn't have-," I start before being cut off.

"It's fine, Katniss, it's fine," he drops his hands from my sleeve, "I did not intend to insult you. Forget we ever spoke of this. Why don't we say our goodbyes before the night is over, we will be on our way soon enough," he says, his words reminding me of tonight's duties.

Every minute that passes, the closer I get to consummating my marriage. In a little over an hour, Peeta and I will have sexual relations.

**Author's Note: Special thanks to my beta chicanita11!**

**This chapter was a lot longer than the others:) Please feel free to leave constructive criticism I want to know what you think of the direction this story is going! I felt like parts of the chapter were emotionally off and a bit repetitive, I may be delusional though.**

**This ended up being over twice what my chapters usually are, and surprisingly I wrote all of it without stopping. It was a lot easier than previous chapters for some reason, and I cut out a lot of it.**

**You can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety**


	8. Chapter 8 - Part 1

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own any of the Hunger Games characters, nor do I own anything else in the Hunger Games Trilogy universe. So don't sue me. In advance, this chapter has very mature themes. If you don't like that, please skip this chapter. Thank You so much for reading!**

Peeta and I make a grand exit. When the clock finally strikes twelve, and midnight comes upon the party, the crowd parts for an aisle, allowing us, a newly wedded couple to walk through the pathway as they toss flowers and small jewelry, things like bracelets and rings towards our feet. I have to make a point to step around them.

_How could anybody throw such precious things at the floor? _I think, as I take a step, my slim arm linked through Peeta's, the hem of his gold jacket hitting my back.

It's yet another reminder of how extravagant this place is. I wonder, with horror, if sex is somehow different here. Not the act itself, I'm aware of the basics, but what if they do it like they do everything else? Will I be painted in gold powder or forced into feathered underwear?

I wonder if Peeta will have odd requests for me.

Everything about sex is a little odd to me, and I'm not familiar with a lot of the acts, but I can imagine that, growing up the the Capitol, he will have different things he expects of me.

A lump forms in my throat as I think about it. I can't act disgusted by anything, I know men don't like that. I have to accept my duty as his wife. He is not only my husband, but my King. He has every right to do what he pleases with me tonight, and I cannot make any protest.

I'm not a very good liar, so my performance will probably be lacking, but I've never done anything like this before.

Peeta breaks me from my thoughts, his bright blue eyes shining as he places his soft lips against my forehead, pressing his arms against my waist and then releasing me from his grip, my shoes fumbling against the black and white checked floors of the small hallway. The doors of the ballroom make a thud as they are closed, the sounds of the crowd hushed by the separation.

"Katniss," he says to me, "Sweetheart?"

My head is turned to the floor, and I'm awkwardly tapping the ends of my shoes against the floor. Probably scuffing my wedding shoes as I do this. When they box them up, perhaps one day ending up in a museum, I wonder what they will think of my inability to keep a pair of shoes decent for one night. My mother for one, would not be proud.

"Yes, Peeta," I squeak out nervously. Wondering where we go from here. The King's wing is fairly close from this side of the palace.

He brushes his fingers against my palm, "Your prep team is going to take you from here, alright?," he kisses my forehead again and nods towards the little troop that I had been to worried to notice, "_I'll see you soon."_

* * *

His words burn through my thoughts as I am shuffled through numerous chambers and hallways by my prep team.

'_I'll see you soon.' _

Peeta and I are going to have sex. It consumes my thoughts with an unnerving sense of peril as we enter a small dressing room. It's a lot like the previous one in the way it is set up, but the fixtures seem a lot more permanent. The walls are covered in gold plated molding, appealing scenes of cherubs seemingly dining accompanied by flowers fit the towering frames that line the walls from floor to ceiling, cream walls peeking through. Arched doorways with tied back curtains lead to little covens situated in the room, mirrors and matching floral gold parlor chairs fit them. Harps and tables fit the elaborate room, leaving a space for the raised platform, made for dressing, where I currently stand.

The room is well lit, four chandeliers cast their golden light on the room. On the wall farthest from the window, shelves with numerous different sized drawers lining about ten feet.

The prep team silently removes most of my clothing, leaving only my blue ribboned underclothes on it. I figured it would also be removed, as it usually is before I am prepped for bed, but Octavia had said it was for Peeta's pleasure. Although I'm not sure why he would prefer for me to wear underclothes, if they are going to be removed anyways.

But at least I'm not being painted gold. That is a relief.

"What is this place," I ask Octavia as she pulls the laced garters back into their original position, running my pantaloons down.

She looks up at me, biting her lip in confusion, "You don't know?"

I wrinkle my forehead, "Am I supposed to know?"

I haven't exactly been paying attention to Effie's lessons on all of the rooms in the palace, so it wouldn't be a stretch to say this has already been taught to me.

"Your majesty, this is your dressing room. It's quite famous amongst the nobles as the place where the current Queen has her private hours of dressing and reflection, it is next to the most intimate and important room in the palace, the royal chamber. His majesty has a similar quarter across from the bedroom. You see that door over there?," she points to a small gilded door about twenty paces to my left, slipping what is assumedly a nightgown over my head.

"Yes," I say impatiently.

"That leads to the Royal chamber, your majesty. Of course you already know this, " I didn't know this, but I didn't speak up, "That is the only place where the King and Queen may be legally allowed to be unaccompanied. I'm sure you will enjoy the privacy," she says with a knowing wink.

It was nice to know that no guards or maids would be allowed in the room where we would be doing _that, _but the knowledge that my consummation was only twenty paces away frightened me.

* * *

After a few adjustments and stitches by my prep team, Octavia speaks up.

"Here you go," she says to me, smoothing out the lines of my night dress and taking my hand into hers.

"Your majesty, I'm afraid this is where we part ways. May I wish you blessings on your wedding night," she says causing the rest of the prep team to giggle as she tugs me towards the door that filled my body with dread.

Allowing one of the red and gold covered guards to open the doors, she gives me a gentle push into the room.

"I'll see you in the morning, yet again may I emphasize my blessings. I hope you have a fertile marriage, my Queen," she says giving me curtsy and allowing the door to be closed.

_Traitor._ Leaving me here like this, even if she knew nothing better, leaving me here is bothersome.

I look out into the room, the royal chamber is small for a room at the palace, although that is probably the point of it. It's the only place in the entire palace where I will be left without several maids and a dozen guards to accompany me.

The first thing I notice about the room is that I'm alone. There is no sign of Peeta to be found.

He must be late, or perhaps, just maybe, I hope that he has decided not to join me on our wedding night. Not that it's even possible, but I can dream.

The room is covered in the country's signature colors, red and gold. The walls are covered in rich patterned tapestries of red, with gold and green fauna. Several gold gilded chairs don red velvet with gold embroidery. The bed, our bed, a tall four poster with a pulled back canopy, sports gold and red bedding that matches the canopy's curtains. This room, unlike the previous, is dim. The chandelier that I can faintly make out on the tall ceilings is not lit, only a single lamp on a nightstand and the light from the doorway remains.

Having nothing else to do, and being unsure of my surroundings I cautiously sit down on the edge of the bed, my feet dangling over the edge. After weeks of never being alone, it's a bit odd to be in solitude.

I spend a few minutes just lying back on the bed, eventually removing the covers and sliding my body into the cool sheets. As minutes pass, my worry increases to Peeta's whereabouts. Perhaps he really has abandoned me on our wedding night, maybe to enjoy the company of another.

But alas, even as I am thinking thoughts of what women he may be enjoying, somebody bursts through the door on the opposite side of the room.

Peeta.

He's no longer dressed in the finery he wore during the day, instead he is in simple white nightclothes. His manner of dress causes me to flush bright red. I've never seen a grown man in nightclothes.

"Katniss," he says stepping onto the bed and pulling himself next to me, his body making an indent into the feathers of the mattress, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I had business to attend to, nothing of matter to you, but it did keep me busy for a lengthy amount of time on a rather unfortunate day."

"It's alright," I say, casting my glance downwards and playing with the trim of the covers.

Peeta slips farther into the covers, bringing himself to a complete flat position and turning himself into the pillow, a sleeping position that I often find myself in.

The silence is awkward, and I'm not sure how to proceed, so I just sit there, continuing to run my fingers over the brocade as he reaches over and turns out the lamp next to him, darkness flooding the room.

"I'm not-," my voice shakes with nervousness, "I'm not, I'm not exactly sure what to do. So, um- if you could maybe be the one to start, that would be nice," I say in the direction of his still form.

He turns his body towards me, not speaking he pulls town my pillow, motioning for me to lie down on it.

"We don't have to do anything tonight," he says, his voice raspy, "Go to sleep, Katniss."

A million emotions flood my brain. First, relief over the fact that I don't have to do anything tonight, and then nervousness over the reality of the situation before me.

"You, you don't want to _be_ with me?"

He reaches across the bed and runs his thumb against my cheek, "It's not that at all. Of course I do, I don't, however, want you to feel the need to be with me in that manner without wanting it. That can wait for later times."

Stupid, stupid Peeta. How could he be so nice, so willing about this? Did he not understand the situation. Even I did, and I feared tonight with a passion.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said scowling at him.

"I thought you would be glad that you didn't have to do anything tonight," he says to me, his voice soft and timid.

"I am, I mean, I'm not. I just. You know what will come of this if we don't. It's our duty. How do you think your little lovers thing is going to work if we wait to do _this_? Don't you know what they will say? And tonight, tomorrow, a year from now. Does it really make a difference? We have to do it eventually, and we might as well get it over with now," I plead with him, barely believing that I am advocating for the thing I have dreaded.

He pauses, considering what I am saying to him.

"If this is what you want," he says to me, pulling himself closer.

"It's what we need to do," I plead to him, catching the side of his cheek with my hand.

"Okay, Katniss, Okay."

Yet again, silence fills the room.

"Do you want to start or..," I say, unsure of what to do.

He reaches over my body and pulls himself over me, arms propping himself up. I hadn't imagined that having a man on top of me would be so crushing, though I hadn't thought much of the actions itself at all.

He lowers his head to me, and places his lips on mine. It's an odd wet sensation, but it's not entirely bad. I can imagine the action being pleasant.

Running his hands along my thighs, he breaks our lips apart as he pushes the fabric of my nightgown up to my knees.

"Is this alright," he says, looking for reassurance.

I give him the nod he is looking for, which causes him to pull the nightgown farther up, I prop my body upwards in response, allowing for him to slip it over my head and cast it to the floor. All I am now wearing is my front laced corset, stockings, and pantaloons. No man in my existence, has even seen me like this in an intimate setting.

Next he silently reaches along my legs and rolls the stockings down my legs, taking the blue laced garter with them before pulling himself back to my chest and pressing his lips against my cheek, "Do you want to, or may I?" he asks, running his hands along the side of the corset.

"Um, you can if you would like to. Uh, it laces in the front. You just pull the strings at the bottom and-," he cuts me short, lowering his hands hesitantly to the strings.

"I know, I'm aware of how it works."

Stupid, stupid, Katniss. Of course he does. He has probably had quite a bit of practice with women. The thought of Peeta with some pretty little Capitol blonde agitates me and I briefly scowl, which he notices, causing him to speak up.

"Katniss, if you don't want to do this. We can stop now. I'm not sure if we go any further if I could handle that."

I bite my lip, "No. I don't want to stop, just go."

His hands are slow and cautious as he makes his way through the laces, loosening the corset and exposing my breasts to the air. I let out a moan of relief at the removal of the tight stays, which seems to unnaturally spur him on and he tosses the article off of the bed, causing me to cover my breasts.

He slips his hands over mine, nudging them away from my body and placing a quick kiss on my lips, "Don't do that," he runs his hands gently along the edges of my body, his fingers sliding against my nipples.

"You're beautiful."

I'm not beautiful, although I'm certainly not ugly. And my small breasts certainly aren't desirable, but it's a nice comment for him to make.

Peeta slides his body a few inches down the bed, lowering his face against my chest, and bringing his lips against my nipples. It feels very very odd, but at the same time pleasant. So I don't say anything, and I allow him to continue placing kisses against me. He continues to lower his body, trailing his kisses down my stomach before stopping at the waist of the pantaloons.

He looks up at me, meeting his eyes with mine and placing his hands on the waistband, "You're not going to enjoy it, at least, not the first time."

"Does that matter?," I had never thought of this as something pleasurable for us to do. This was my duty. It wasn't about enjoyment.

"It does to me. You will get used to it after a while, but there is something I want to try with you. Can I remove these?," he nods towards the only piece of clothing that I remain in.

"Of course you may, Peeta," I say, allowing for him to slip it off my legs, exposing the entirety of my body to him.

**Author's Note: There you go! I am sending this to you now, freshly typed, because I want to get this out as soon as possible. I haven't had wifi for the past week, which is why I haven't updated the story. I'm really sorry about that, so I wanted to give all of my readers this chapter.**

**If you read Second Chances, I already have half of that chapter written and will be updating soon!**

**As always, you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety. **

**Also, just a fanfic recommendation. If you haven't already, I would recommend you read "When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun." If you like this story, you will probably (and I'm not sure how you could not) LOVE this one. Trust me, leave this chapter right now and go read this fanfic.**

**I published that story I was talking about, here is the summary:**

**When Katniss Everdeen is arrested, alongside Gale Hawthorne, for illegally hunting on the King's land, she is sent to stand trial in front of the King, Peeta of the Mellark house. King Peeta has an interesting punishment for her, and it might just save her life. Historical AU.**


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